


In His Essence Of Being

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Series: Yearning [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, caretaker!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:23:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet again and again, and slowly the man buried underneath allows Dean to gently pull down the barriers, one by one, to excavate the hidden heart. Dean feels blessed, no longer naked and vulnerable when their eyes meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Essence Of Being

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morethancupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morethancupcake/gifts), [shiphitsthefan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiphitsthefan/gifts).



 

The first time the other man comes into the focus of his attention, it is but a short glimpse, a flash of the laser beam show illuminating his head like a halo made of smoke and holiness. He is with another man, their bodies pressed together, dancing.

The next time Dean lays eyes on the man, it is after he passes by the man's dancing partner, the sickly-sweet mixed scent of alcohol and sex only noticeable because there is hardly any room to navigate in the narrow corridor.

He can see the other man's face clearly now, the sweat on his furrowed brow, a painful looking bruise sucked into the slope of his neck, obviously fresh and glistening. He is leaning against the tiled wall, his breathing still slightly ragged, clothing askew. He looks pained, but not in a way that would make Dean run after the second man, but he still asks and is glad to hear a no.

A joyless blue gaze settles on him, it humbles him and makes him feel naked and vulnerable. But it also stirs something inside him. It is the familiar warmth he feels for his family, an instinct he has felt several times intensely - the varying degrees of pain upon separation marking sections of his life with a new scar in his essence of being. 

 

The next time he sees the man, the warmth spikes. Buried in layers of clothing, wrapped up in a hideous scarf that swallows half of his face, his chin is resting on his knees, the Thermos next to him clearly forgotten, a book carefully balanced on the top of his boots. The little white puffs of breath follow the steady rhythm of lungs but there are also the little huffs the man makes, oblivious to the world, indulging in the fantastic world he learns from the pages in front of him.

This time, his question is different, and the eyes peeking up at him  _see,_ they see  _him._ This time, he asks a second question and is glad to hear a yes and learns a new name.

 

They meet again and again, and slowly the man buried underneath allows Dean to gently pull down the barriers, one by one, to excavate the hidden heart. Dean feels blessed, no longer naked and vulnerable when their eyes meet.

"Life is enjoyable, once you ignore the pain it incessantly provides."  
Dean wants to yell and thrash the room, to hunt down those who have ingrained this kind of thinking into Cas, to hurt them just as bad but instead he wraps his arms around him.

"Can I please see you again? Tomorrow?"  
Every time they meet, Dean asks this paramount question, wanting to make Cas understand that he is cherished and suspecting that if he would not ask, Cas would not dare to do so himself. If Cas notices the tremble in his voice, he is kind to not refer to it at any given time. Instead, Dean is rewarded with an unanticipated entanglement of their fingers after a while. Soon, the blinding smile and affirmative reply he receives are accompanied by a soft kiss, and an unspoken promise of a possibility. The hunger Dean knows another body could never satiate grows even stronger, but he is in no hurry. He knows, really has known for weeks by now. This is it. He has been broken in, is irrevocably lost to others - if he cannot have Cas, he  _can_ not want anyone else.

"Can I please see you again? Tomorrow?"   
Patience sends her reward and Cas asks a question in return on a late Wednesday evening, a development Dean had wished for dearly. He finally satiates his craving, his lips gently ghosting over the same spot that displayed the offending bruise months ago. At last the aching black void is being filled with sun-light coloured bliss, kisses growing in intensity and exploratory touches learning the form of the other. Familiar movements to both are now made with clumsy and shaking hands, not only because they haven't been made in a long time but because they are virginal again, and it is perfect. The giggling is slowly replaced by soft sighs, at first subdued gasps then gradually increasingly broken moans, and then crescent shaped indentions on Deans back, the world around them long forgotten and, in all honesty, non-existent. 

 

In the morning, their bodies are slotted together, in a different way but essentially in the same way. Their physical boundaries are complementing one another perfectly, emphasising the fact that just a few hours ago they were entwined by far more than just their corporeal forms. His attempt to get up is terminated at once when he sees the pain Cas is expecting, despite of last night, or perhaps  _because_ of last night. But Dean will not allow it, never again. He chases the shadows of doubt playing across Cas' face with kisses and a soft whispered "Good morning", covering them with the blanket and effectively shutting out the world again, finally able to voice the promise he has felt for months.


End file.
